A Day in the Life of Gregory Goyle
by angelriseng85
Summary: I'm not as stupid as you think. Really. It's all an act to make Draco Malfoy seem smart." Enter the life of Gregory Goyle, the misunderstood Slytherin.


**Idea by** Elijahsbaby1981

_I'm not as stupid as you think. Really. It's all an act to make Draco Malfoy seem smart. Which he isn't. The stupid, stereotypical "Malfoy's bodyguard" thing annoys me immensely. And it's not just me, it's Vincent, or Vince Crabbe, too. Both of us._

_I'd known Malfoy for a long time, mainly just because our fathers knew each other. Malfoy'd always tried to come out on top, I guess it was just his nature. He bossed Crabbe and me around all the time, and we didn't want to get our dads angry, so we just played along. To tell the truth (for once), my dad's a nice guy. Okay, forget the whole Death-Eater thing. Underneath it all, he's a pretty decent guy, as dads go. But when he gets angry, well, you're dead, mate._

_The whole plan was to make Malfoy what he appears to be now. The handsome Slytherin that everyone wants to be like. See, Mr. Malfoy didn't think his son would make it big. And you know what? He was right._

_So we've been playing along for awhile now. I don't even think he's noticed that it's all fake. In truth, I hate him, and so does Crabbe. The slick, blonde hair, the ice-blue eyes. He disgusts me. But I'm not going to say that Harry Potter is any better. I've never really met the kid. All I know is the obvious stuff: Malfoy hates him, he's the Boy-Who-Lived, that's all._

_Malfoy really isn't the cold, calculating Slytherin everyone thinks he is. It's all a lie, all fake. I'm the brains behind the whole bloody operation. The brains and the brawn. That probably sounds really good, doesn't it? That's what you think._

"Crabbe! Goyle! Over here, now!"

I walked slowly over to Malfoy, muttering to myself. "Stupid...Sounds like a cave man...Should stuff his head in a..." I stopped when I reached him. I could hear Crabbe murmuring his own obcenities in a hushed voice. I poked him, telling him to stop.

"Listen up, you two. Today we're going to have a little bit of fun..." Malfoy the idiot said, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

I winced inwardly. Fun...Right.

"Guess what we're going to do? Come on, guess!" he said impatiently, waiting for a response.

"What?" Vince said dully.

Malfoy looked extraordinarily happy. "We're going to get Potter today!"

"Oh, so original," I mumbled.

"What was that?" Malfoy snapped. "Something wrong with what I'm doing?"

"No," I said quietly.

"Good." He smiled again and proceeded to tell us his plan.

Really. It's not as if Malfoy hasn't tried every "evil" plan in the book. He's tried, and failed. Many times, countless times. The only reason we've ever come close to succeeding is because I've intervened. Of course, only in small, fairly nonexistent ways. But then Malfoy always managed to screw things up.

Like the time he was insulting Hagrid in third year. He did it, loudly, I might add, right in front of the Golden Trio. And then Hermione slapped him. Figures. You'd think the all-powerful, omnipotent Slytherin would've seen it coming. He didn't.

So to Plan B, as Malfoy called it. Probably the most stupid plan he's ever thought of yet. Today's lovely plan would be to show Potter up at the quidditch match, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor.

Lovely.

"Oy, Potter! Nice broom," Malfoy cackled.

Potter glanced down and grinned. "Only the best,"

Malfoy snorted. "That old thing? Why, that's only a Firebolt! Dad's gotten me-"

I nudged him. No time for bragging now, Malfoy had to get out onto the field!

"What?" Malfoy snapped nastily.

I shrugged. Maybe I'd just let the fool go and do this "plan" all by himself.

Sounded good.

I walked away with Vince to the stands and took a seat.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "We're supposed to make sure Malfoy doesn't get into any-"

I watched Malfoy rise up into the air on his broomstick, his eye blackened and his lip bloody.

"Fights..." Vincent finished with a groan.

"Eh, let the little weasel do whatever he wants today...How stupid could he be on a broomstick?"

"Very stupid..."

We watched as Malfoy elbowed Potter in the head.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

Malfoy punched one of Gryffindor's Chasers.

The whistle blew again.

By the end of the match, Gryffindor had won by two hundred points and Slytherin lost with about fifty penalties to the Gryffindors.

Malfoy looked jubilant as he stepped off the quidditch field.

"I hurt Potter, I hurt Potter..." he cackled. "Now to the next plan..."

_I groaned inwardly. This was going to be a really, really long day..._


End file.
